


thank god I dodged a bullet (too bad I fell on my sword)

by fuscience



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Lazarus Pit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 06:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3478628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuscience/pseuds/fuscience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver will have to answer for all he's done eventually and Karma always comes around full circle. <br/>//<br/>Felicity leaves and Slade comes back - Oliver's not sure which is worse, but it's all damning him to hell in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	thank god I dodged a bullet (too bad I fell on my sword)

**Author's Note:**

> super old. found it on my computer as I was cleaning out google docs. definitely not in canon.
> 
> sorry for any inconsistencies!

In the end, it's not that hard to leave.

Oliver had always walked the gray moral line, needing others to remind him which side to stay on in order to be the hero. Diggle, Felicity, Roy, Thea - that's what they were for; it was their most important job as part of Oliver's inner circle.

After Slade, things changed, the city _changed_. It grew darker, yet a dichotomy existed, a line drawn by the people of Starling. Those from the Glades were isolated and ostracized, kept away as the fear of Starling's more prominent members skyrocketed. When the streets are full of monsters, you hide inside your house, stay away from all the bad things outside and hope for the best, leaving those less equipped to deal by themselves. The Arrow was no longer a strange figure - he was the one running down the streets at night in full view and most accepted him as just another spectre of this new age of super powered thugs and megalomaniacs. Everyone realized that he had been merely the precursor to a time filled with masked villains and situations far beyond a normal person's control.

Oliver still didn't kill, that was a code broken in only the most dire of situations (they don't talk about the Count), but he made deals that wouldn't have been considered six months ago. Bartered and bargained with the gangs for territory and threatened those who wouldn't get in line - broke bones, twisted arms. There were moments Oliver would walk in with red on his clothes and Felicity would watch him stiffly limp into the showers, dragging a line of blood behind him that she wasn’t always sure was his. The worst part - she wasn’t always sure whose blood she wanted it to be. She had lost the nerve to ask him about it months ago. He never volunteered the information.

His comm link was turned off more times than not, working on private lines away from the team. He knew his decisions wouldn't be met with approval, but these lines _hadn't been there_ six months ago - none of them had even considered the questions and choices that stood in front of them now and the more times Oliver crossed a line, the less they brought him back from the edge, the more Felicity thought.

She thought about a lot of things. But her mind always wandered back to Oliver. Her Oliver - the one who'd struggled to create a world he could live in with peace of mind, a place where guilt didn't shadow his boots like the edge of a storm. It was like he'd surrendered that fight in order to fling himself head first into this war against Slade's memory. Trying to prove the man wrong, long after he'd exited their life.

So, it really wasn't that hard to leave - Oliver was busy running triage on a city he felt had already been lost and Felicity needed hope. She needed to believe that the city could still be saved, that what they were doing still mattered and that they weren't just sticking fingers in a dam, waiting for the flood to drown them.  Felicity shuts off the computer one day, an hour after Oliver had shut off his comm as she'd been mid sentence, and stands up to gather her things. She hugs Diggle, who's been sidelined with a bullet to the leg and tells him she'll see him around, but _"I can't do it like this anymore._ ", before walking up the stairs, her heels echoing with every step.

Oliver opens the door when she's only several motions from the top and she freezes for a moment - only a moment - before brushing past him. He doesn't stop her, doesn't say anything. They lock eyes for a moment and Oliver breaks the contact first, throwing his head down and hunching his shoulders defensively.

The door shuts behind her and she only looks back once.

* * *

 

 

Slade would prove to be Oliver's undoing like he always has been. The two men feed off each other and, at one time, it'd been a good thing - made them brothers - but, now it only made their rage at each other more palpable and extreme.

It's weeks before anything happens though. Her departure had not been unexpected, the idea had been floating there for a while and she'd spoken with Digg on more than one occasion. He encouraged her to do what she felt was right - " _You're the smartest one here_ ", but John couldn't leave. He needed the war, the fight was his air and he had to breathe it everyday. Lyla had long removed their daughter from the equation, hidden in a far off complex, waiting for her parents to quit the good fight, waiting for the city to be safe once again so they could bring her home. When Felicity had attempted to breach the subject with Oliver he'd brushed her off until finally she'd given up. She couldn't make him listen if he didn't want to hear.

Two weeks in her apartment - doubting her decision and wondering what she'll do, where she'll go and, most of all, what use  she is anymore. Felicity distributes some money, taking from the rich and giving to the poor like a digital Robin Hood, but it feels soulless - she misses the camaraderie of the team and celebrating their victories together. She misses him.

Felicity saw his mask before the darkness hit her, felt the abstract horror that comes with having the boogeyman that lives under your bed and in your nightmares appear in the light of the day. She tries to scream that night, but he's faster.

When next Felicity opens her eyes it's to thousands of others staring back.

Slade, risen from the depths of hell and still exacting his chaotic revenge, has her strung up, disorientated and restrained - there will be no second chances - in the middle of Starling for all the city to see. Oliver, as the Arrow, stands not twenty feet away, bow drawn and arrow knocked into position. Felicity can’t breathe. The people of Starling watch on, vaguely aware of the intensity of the hostage situation - but unaware of the personal vendetta taking place. To them this was a clash of the gods and gods have reasons far beyond petty mortal emotions like love and revenge, to them this was war.

Slade was speaking, though the words only vaguely reach Felicity’s  ears as she tries to pull herself to alertness, and she sees Oliver's muscles visibly tighten - straining to not let the arrow fly. Felicity hangs off a column that is part of a bigger statue, attached to a platform rising in the middle of the square. It allows a 360 degree view for everyone watching and, if she allows herself to hope, a perfect angle for a sniper.

"Slade - you've tried this before and you've failed before! You won't succeed this time either." Oliver sounds calm, but there’s a shaky lilt to his voice, barely recognizable that let’s her know he’s scared. If he’s frightened, then she suddenly feels a thousand times worse.

"I will have this!" Slade roars in response. His Deathstroke mask is broken, only the black part remains stuck to the side of his face,  there's still red though - blood caked and stained on his clothes, running down his hands and Felicity can't stop the cold shiver that runs down her spine. "I miscalculated - aimed too high. I took your mother, though, and now I've got her. It may not be everything, but you'll crack, kid. You're not the hero of this story. Not this time."

Oliver stands there, remembering his mother, and a wave of helplessness surrounds him, crawling through his bones and gripping his heart. His fingers flex against the bow, white knuckled grip turning angry red, and he watches Slade move around Felicity like a wild animal coming to dinner.

"Oliver." Felicity tries to speak, but the gag doesn't let her. _Oliver, keep fighting. Oliver, you're a hero. Oliver you're my hero._  So, many things to say to him, so many goddamn regrets and she can't do anything. Felicity can only watch, clenching her jaw in anger.

"You want to know what's terrifying, kid?" Slade drags a bloody hand down the half of his face left uncovered, "Utter loss of control. I made a mistake in ever giving you a choice." Flecks of spit hit Felicity's cheek, her captor literally foaming at the mouth, before he roughly grabs her chin, forcing her to look out at the crowd. "So, know today that there was no choice to make, that I have her and _I_ am going to hurt her and there is _nothing_  you can do."

A lone finger draws itself lovingly down her face, while the sword bisects her body, sticking straight out through her gut. It doesn't hurt - at first. Then, it does and the shouts of horror from the crowd are nothing compared to her own muffled scream or Oliver’s distraught roar.

It burns and stings like nothing she's ever felt before, like a thousand hot pokers in her belly swirling her intestines about until they are mush and fire. Felicity's hands are cut free and they involuntarily go to the weapon, jostling it and tearing more skin causing her to yell as she steps forward  - Slade releasing her from the post. The sound rips through her lungs and leaves her choking and gasping for air between the pain. _It hurts, it hurts, it hurts_ and there's no room for anything else in her other than the feeling of her flesh coming apart at the seams, like a doll a child's been too rough with ( _she wishes someone would rip her head off if only to make it stop_ ).

When Slade pulls the sword back out of her Felicity doesn't even notice - too busy bleeding out and going into shock, but without the steel tip holding her up her knees give out and she collapses to the ground.

It rained that weekend, Felicity remembers.. She'd spent the night curled up in bed, alternating between cracking open some bank accounts and checking on Oliver. The concrete is still wet and cold and she'll never get the stains out of this dress - if she ever gets to do laundry again. Tears leak out of the corner of her eyes, and the pool of blood Felicity lies in continues to grow larger. Her face is pale and sweaty, shaking with the exertion to simply keep her eyes open. The lack of feeling is disturbing, the complete numbness letting her know that her body is shutting down. If this is what dying feels like, she’d rather never do it again. Felicity’s breath comes out in staggered bursts of air as rivulets of blood leak out the side of her mouth.

She can feel a pressure on the edge of her spine, and, suddenly, large hands are rolling her over onto her side. The pain comes back in full force when strangers begin to place pressure on her wounds and she involuntarily thrashes. Felicity hopes she'll wake up eventually and get the chance to apologize to the paramedics who are trying to save her life and that's the last thought she has as they backboard her, carrying her to an ambulance, unconscious and dead to the world.

* * *

 

Oliver stares blankly at the wall, before closing his eyes and leaning back letting his head hit the wall. Swallowing the lump in his throat he runs his hands up and down on his face. Logically, he knows this isn't his fault - but Oliver has never worked within the confines of a balanced universe and the scales have never tipped in his favor. If they had, Slade would've been dead months ago, instead of hours ago. No choice this time. When she left he'd been, for lack of a better word, inconsolable. Oliver hadn't realized how dependent he'd become on Felicity for not merely her technical skills, but the general spiritual support she offered.

He was a fool and an idiot and too pigheaded to make her stay - those who refuse to fight for what they want, get what they deserve. He should've known Felicity leaving him wouldn't mean his enemies would leave her alone. Now, she lies in a bed, carrying his sins, his choices , while he can only sit and do nothing. The sword stabbed her, but he feels as though it cut out a part of him as well.

The message had come in blood. Oliver still didn't know whether it was Felicity's or someone else's - he didn't really want to.

_Death comes at the Stroke of midnight. City Square._

It wasn't meant to be a clever puzzle. Slade had never claimed to be an obtuse man, he preferred precise and to the point - intrigue was an art to him, but not necessarily his preferred style.He had a very simple goal in mind. To kill Felicity within Oliver’s range of sight - efficiently taking revenge on both the woman who thwarted him and the man who destroyed him. Eye for an eye. By the end, Slade succeeded in every way that counted. Felicity was dead and he was a murderer.

Thinking about those days without her makes him nauseous and cold, like every bit of life is drained from his body. After Slade had run Felicity through, Oliver had released the arrow, taking Slade's one good eye and killing him with vicious accuracy. Everything was a blur after that, running to Felicity, trying to get her to focus on him, look at him, _stay with him_ , while the crowd pushed forward surrounding the platform like a barrier. He vaguely remembers Detective Lance pushing him off and pointing and yelling and Roy grabbing one of his arms and pulling him away. Oliver fought and fought the entire way, ripping himself from the hands of strangers and attempting to force his way back to Felicity. Roy had roughly shoved him into an alley, red hood flying off his face, and they escape amidst the chaos.

Oliver is lost. When he gets to the hospital, the news is already reporting the fatality of the young woman from the Arrow hostage crisis. He runs into the hospital, the blood still pounding in his ears an adrenaline pushing through his veins. Oliver doesn't remember speaking to the nurses, but he does recall the look on their faces - like he should be committed to the psych ward for a night ( _or forever if Felicity is really gone_ ).  The doctor is removing his surgical gloves when Oliver crashes through the doors.

"Time of death..." Death. Dead. Gone. Oliver can't breathe. He can't think. There's white noise everywhere and he collapses, back sliding down the wall to the floor until he's on his knees, vomiting. No one comes over to him as he sits there throwing up his insides. When one of the nurses comes over Oliver shoves her off - it's Diggle who comes to retrieve him. He'd been Felicity's emergency contact and they'd called to inform him of her demise.

"Oliver." John speaks quietly, taking him by the shoulder and dragging him out of the surgical room, away from Felicity's body. Oliver had been blocking the door, trapping the large gurney with the dead girl laying on top inside. Diggle forgets that as hardened as Oliver is, he isn't used to watching his friends die. In war, during the worst times, Digg had been swapped around three different units - each time because he was suddenly the senior commander. He'd lost entire units on missions gone wrong, watched his men die on hospital beds in barren deserts thousands of miles from their families.

Oliver breaks down in the car - not with tears, but with silence. Diggle sees it in his eyes, the man slowly unraveling and coming apart inside - he's seen it before, in himself and the eyes of other men on the battlefield.

 

* * *

 

Oliver is on a plane to Nanda Parbat within an hour and knocking on the door to the League of Assassins by the time the sun rises. He's taken out half a garrison before Sara comes storming through the doors, clotheslining him across the neck and slamming him down onto the hard wooden floor.

"What the hell, Ollie?!" His nostrils flare in distress as she yells in his ear. Oliver struggles for a second more, before relaxing several of his muscles to let them know he won't immediately start banging heads together once she lets go. Sara releases him then, standing up herself before offering a hand. He takes it, grunting with the effort. His muscle are sore and ache like they haven't in years, it comes from having clenched every muscle in his body for the last twenty four hours.

"Felicity's dead." His voice comes out beaten and broken, cracking at the end.

It's two words, but Sara's face goes pale, all the blood draining.

"Wha-?" Her voice trembles like it hasn't in over five years. “How?”

"Slade." Oliver's teeth clack together and his lips shake ever so slightly. "He won."

_He won. He won._ Oliver _**lost**_. Lost what mattered the most. He hopes Felicity will forgive him.

Sara's jaw works itself back and forth. "Oliver I'm sor - "

He doesn't let her finish the thought. "I need the pit." It comes out much softer than he intended, barely above a whisper. Oliver's head raises and he makes eye contact with Nyssa Al Ghul, who stands unmoving near the door watching the two of them converse. The true reason he flew halfway around the world. "I need the pit."

It was something he'd only learned about recently, with Malcolm Merlyn's serendipitous return to Starling city, spiriting away with Thea. A mystical pool that could cure anything - even death if you were brought quickly. At the time, it'd been a thorn in his side - Merlyn coming back and the League's apparent willingness to let him use the Lazarus pit ( _Oliver suspected there were larger forces at play surrounding Malcolm's revival_ ). The pit had sounded horrible, unnecessary, unnatural - until Oliver had needed it. And, oh, how he needed it. Needed Felicity.

* * *

 

Oliver leads them into the forest to a small biplane, hidden among the trees and leaves and Sara tries to talk to him the entire way.

"Oliver, you can't use the pit. No one who goes in there and comes out is the same." His shoulders hunch more as Sara continues to plead with him, begging. "Have you seen the league of assassins? Have you met or heard of anyone coming out of that pit normal or even sane? Please, don't do this Oliver. Please."

He can't look at her anymore. Ignoring and avoiding her eyes on his back as he continues further into the forests. A branch snaps against his grip and Oliver pauses, staring at the broken twig. Felicity's body, torn in half by metal, flashes across his memory and he almost groans from the pain of remembering. The plane stands in front of them and Oliver strides forward, Nyssa close behind and Sara standing back, refusing to follow. He opens the back drop door and everyone can clearly see the sheet draped over a human shape, surrounded by ice.

"What the hell, Ollie?!" Sara shouts again. "You stole her fucking body." Her hands grab him spinning him to face her before coming up to shove his shoulders angrily, "You can't do this.You can't fuck around with magic like this."

Oliver finally looks at her, peering up behind shadowed eyes that mourn and rage, and in that moment Sara understands. They had always been so alike, it was part of the reason they'd been drawn to each other in the first place. She and Oliver loved deeply, in a forever way, kill anyone who stood in your path to get to you way and it was both their strength and weakness.

"I would make a deal with the devil if it meant she got a second chance." Oliver says plainly and Sara retreats, a mask sweeping over her face. She doesn't agree with his decision, but can't judge.

Nyssa steps in now, looking at him thoughtfully. He had only seen her enraged and murderous, but these are the eyes of a woman who has lived three times his years, taken ten times - no, a hundred times - more life than he has. This is someone who understands the precipice upon which life, death, and limbo stand.

"You will not suffer the consequences though," she says quietly, "It is Felicity of MIT who will have the devil looking over her shoulder."

"I can't do this without her." Oliver grits his teeth, bitterly swallowing down his guilt. "I know it's selfish." He releases a breath and looks the Heir to the Demon in the eye. "I need her."

Nyssa's eye flicker over to Sara, who paces like a caged animal in the corner, and almost imperceptible longing flashes across them.

"I understand."

 **  
  
**And Oliver hopes with all his heart Felicity will as well.

 

* * *

 

Felicity rises from the pool an hour later and just like that his world comes back. There's a rush of relief that runs through him, of biblical proportions, and he hesitates only a moment, before going to Felicity's side. Nyssa comes up from behind and places her palm flat onto Felicity's sternum, feeling a steady heartbeat. Oliver tries to ignore the blonde's state of undress, while also resisting the urge to rip Nyssa’s arm from it’s socket for touching Felicity before he does, but mostly just concentrates on awkwardly drawing Felicity’s waking body from the liquid.

"Felicity of MIT is alive. You may take her home." Nyssa gives an entirely inappropriate smile, "Unless you would like her to stay. I wouldn't mind."

Sara nudges the assassin's shoulder with her boot and Oliver frowns at the idea of him ever leaving Felicity behind again.

"She's joking." Sara says, "It means she likes Felicity."

Oliver watches Sara stand up and grab a robe, wrapping their IT girl up in the cloth.

"Take her home, Ollie."

* * *

 

It's another two days before Felicity wakes up (Oliver refusing to sleep the entire time) - apparently coming back to life is a taxing event on the body, but when she does it's quiet, curtains drawn in the small room hidden from prying eyes. She returns to the world of the living with a whimper, not a bang.

The sound wakes Oliver up and he springs to his feet from the small armchair in the corner. He’s the first thing Felicity sees when she wakes up - just as he hoped, but there’s confusion sitting there instead of happiness and he knows she knows.

“Oliver?” Her voice is rough from disuse, sore from death, “How?”

He comes to her bedside and sits, smoothing out the sheets covering her tentatively, trying to prolong the happiness before he has to explain what he’s done to her. Felicity’s hand comes up weakly to tap his wrist, and when Oliver looks up she’s still waiting for answers. He swallows down his guilt.

“You were dead.” Oliver has to pause as fear works his way back up his throat. He’d refused to say the words, afraid that by uttering them everything would become real and permanent. “And now you’re not.”  It’s not an answer and they both know it, her eyes are already fluttering in anger and that’s not how he wanted to greet her - not how he wanted to restart everything with her. “I took you to Nanda Parbat and I asked to use the Lazarus pits.”

Felicity’s eyes widen.  ****

She’d heard of the pits in passing, a vague myth that had arisen in their search for Malcolm, but Oliver _wouldn’t_ have, wouldn’t have made bargains with the devil in exchange for her life. Then she remembers everything Oliver’s done over the past few months and realizes that yes, he would. _“Oliver_.” It’s all she can get out, furious and scared because she only knows of three people who’ve come out of those pits and two are insane, and all three are serial killers.

  
 ****

“I couldn’t.” His voice cracks and Oliver ducks down to press a kiss into her hair, onto her forehead, still overwhelmed that she’s here. "I love you"

"Shut up." She chokes out, a raging tide bursting forth that Oliver chooses now to tell her that, but he keeps going, taking advantage of her injured state.

"Do you understand?" It's cruel of him to parrot those words back at her now and if she could move her head, Felicity would look for the hidden listening devices. "I don't - Felicity, I didn't know what to do about _that_. I love you and you weren’t there anymore, not just in the foundry, but in the world, and I would _never_ \- " It isn't fair, Felicity thinks, she can't even get a word in edgewise and Oliver's sitting here pouring his heart out. She'll never be able to stay mad at him now. "When Slade had you, when he did what he did to you."

"Stabbed me, just say it." She bites out, acid sliding through her voice. "It won't kill me again to admit what happened."

Her voice still sounds like death warmed over and Oliver looks horrified, mouth open and eyes frightfully big, "It might." His voice wobbles before lowering and Felicity feels like crying. He reaches for her hand, pausing when his finger brushes the IV. "I'm sorry. For pushing you away. For holding you too close. For not talking to you. For everything. I thought if I could do it on my own then I wouldn't have to make a choice anymore. I was wrong."

This is Oliver begging, pleading, and Felicity doesn't have the strength for long speeches and there's still so much left unsaid between them - Oliver will have to answer for what he’s done eventually, but for now she can ask a question and it's really the most important one. "You love me?"

There's a tremor to her voice that Oliver hopes is just merely a side effect from the recovery process. He hates that Felicity ever had to doubt how much he cared for her and vows to spend everyday making it up to her.  For now, though, he nods his head in affirmation.

"Okay." She says quietly, holding his hand like it will anchor them together for longer than a moment.

Oliver has to ask, "Will you come back?"

"Will you?" She says in a whisper.

It's always been up to him. Oliver is their leader, no matter how ill-fitted the man from the island is for the term. She will stay if he will. Felicity will keep fighting if Oliver does. Her face looks so defiant at this moment, gaunt and pale as it is, that Oliver has to duck his head and laugh at his own stupidity.

" _Yes._ " He says forcefully, before leaning forward and kissing her softly.

They have to be mindful of her new body, still weak and infantile, but Felicity finds the strength to lift her hands and bury them in his hair, pulling him forward and crushing his lips against hers. Their noses smash together and Oliver is left breathless when she pulls away first.

With a small, satisfied smile, Felicity lays back in her bed, closing her eyes and promptly passing out.

When Diggles comes in, Oliver's asleep next to her bed, their hands still intertwined.

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**


End file.
